Thrown to the Dogs
by CasJuiceUpMyAssbutt
Summary: When Castiel is told to leave, he was left in a daze; stunned, cut and drifting; wandering with little direction. The night closed in and so did the men, the monsters that hid in it's shadowy veil. And they mean nothing but harm to the abandoned ex-angel. WARNINGS: Violence, sexual violence, whump ; SET POST S9 EPISODE 3


Maybe Castiel should have been paying more attention.

Maybe if he hadn't been walking eyes to the ground, watching the pavements slowly scroll past him, grey and dull, empty of detail, no more than a blur. ..

Maybe if his body wasn't slow and numb, moving in a detached way, distant and dead…

Maybe if his chest wasn't aching, if his blood wasn't like ice, maybe if his vision wasn't blurring with tears and his throat thick with pent up sobs…

Maybe he would have noticed he was being followed.

But he didn't.

So he didn't.

Not until there was no way out.

Castiel didn't know his way around the city, so he got lost quickly. It wasn't hard to lose your way when you couldn't even feel your own body, couldn't even register the street signs and storefronts. So he got turned around, he got lost. He found himself walking down a dark alleyway with no idea where he was heading or where he had been.

Sound kind of echoed and blurred in his ears; he couldn't define anything. All that echoed through his head was a single phrase, three words , and the cutting, cold feeling that came with them.

_You can't stay_

So that's all he heard when the figure behind him spoke, just a strange echo overrode by the words running on repeat through his stunned brain. He didn't hear the filthy, snarl of a voice, not until it got far too close, not until he found himself caught in a dead end.

"Lost?"

Castiel turned around after glazing his eyes over the dark wall. It was black as pitch. No streetlamps shed any light on the trapping walls, Castiel was practically blind in the thick, crushing shadows, a few lit windows the only source of light. His eyes met those of the man standing almost right behind him, no more than a few feet away.

_Fear._

"Hey, pretty boy" the man stepped closer, looming over him. Castiel stepped back; the gruff tone of the figure's voice mixed with the shock at being pulled back to reality scaring Castiel out of his wits, "I was talking to you."

Castiel wanted to run. But there wasn't anywhere he could run to, he was trapped, the filthy, repelling smell of the huge man essentially pinning him against the wall sweeping over him. It was a mixture of sweat, dirt, urine and something… something almost like rotting meat. Rusty and rancid. This man was too close, even Castiel, someone with no understanding of the concept of personal space, knew that. His skin, formerly so numb, was crawling. He tried to speak, but he found himself tripping over words. "No I'm... I'm fine-"

The man laughed, Castiel's throat tightened. He tried to move away, but an arm and the man's bulk stopped him. Any distance Castiel had from the situation vanished. He was right there, and his heart was pounding.

"You need some help finding your way home?" A hand met Castiel's shoulder and it took everything in the ex-angel not to shrink back.

He drew in his breath slowly as the hand slid up to his neck, rough fingers slipping over his chilled skin. Castiel's guts squirmed and his grip on the angel blade tightened. Mere weeks ago he could have thrown the man from him, held him back with a single finger, taken his consciousness with a gentle brush of the thumb; now his body felt hollow, drained, malnourished. He was sickly from sleeping on the streets, shivering from the cold. He was _weak._

Filthy finger scraped over the clammy flesh, sharp, dirt encrusted fingernails scraping over it slowly, sending a wave of cold, nauseating goosebumps over his skin- Castiel felt like knives were being driven under his fingernails. "No-" He kept his voice firm despite the snakes slithering in his throat. He raised a hand to remove the other's, but was stopped when it squeezed, thumb on the windpipe; choking him.

_Panic_

"Shhh" When Castiel struggled, the man's fist slammed into his stomach and the hand squeezed harder, "Don't make this harder than it needs to be, baby…"

_No- no- _Castiel couldn't breathe, his lungs were burning, his stomach felt like it'd been torn in half. He tried to swing his blade, but the man simply grabbed his hand, digging sharp, almost claw like fingernails into his wrist until he dropped it. "Please-" The only word he could choke out, barely more than a whisper, choked and small.

The squeeze loosened, but the man's mass was pressing Castiel against the wall, his other hand turning his arm in a threat to break it."You stop your whining honey and I'll make it worth your while, or-" He leant in, his damp, thick breath falling on Castiel's cheek, making him gag, "You struggle and I slit your throat with that pretty knife in your belt.

He wanted to kick him, to scream and wrestle the knife from his hand, but the man was too immense, and the hand on his throat too tight. He was defenceless. And a part of him, a part laden with guilt, with an undying, deep rooted hatred and disgust at his failures and actions; told him he _deserved _whatever was going to happen next. So when the man turned him around, holding his hands above his head with an iron grip, there was nothing he could do but close his eyes and pretend this wasn't happening. Pretend he was back at the bunker, sipping coffee with Sam and Dean, maybe helping them on a case, maybe just talking, maybe just sitting silently, saying nothing but feeling warm and comfortable- not…

_Pain_

He screamed, tears filling his eyes; but he refused to let them fall. A rough hand with sharp nails clasped over his mouth. The second time it hurt more, searing and burning. Then again and again and again and _again._ Through the sharp, slicing, ripping burn there were other feelings a strange twist in the gut, a drop, a heat- but that only made it worse. He wanted to throw up.

It hurt so much. Closing his eyes didn't numb the pain, thinking of the Winchesters only made it worse, trying to imagine he was somewhere else, anywhere else… the tears slipped and soon he was sobbing- the pain was uniform and constant now, constantly unbearable, constantly agonizing.

_I deserve this. _

Pain flared through him, his stomach churned. _For what I did, _The force of it slamming him into the wall, cracking his bones and blackening his skin, _ I… _The thrusts slowed, a hand bashed his head into the bricks and yanked it to the side. Castiel cried out, brain slamming into the sides of his skull. A tight grip then a crush; and impossible strong crush on his jaw silenced him. He spluttered on the blood, choking on it as he gasped in pain, then for air; specks found their way to his lungs.

_I deserve this _. His vision went black as he choked and wheezed through his dangling, shattered jaw, each breath making the pain worse as it failed to catch the air. Another crush make his nerves blaze; he would have screamed but he couldn't even draw breath in.

_I deserve this._

A cold laugh then a snarl, a clamping, slicing stab in his neck. Draining. His vision blurred, his world spun, his head lightened. His blood... his brain was being stirred, sucked away... A final spluttering gasp...

_I deserve this._

_**A/N: God i hope that wasn't too dark for you guys; I just ended upt thinking up worst possible outcomes of Castiel' expulsion from the the bunker and you know, Cas looked like he'd gotten his heart torn out, and people can't think clearly when that happens. People get lost. **_

_**please leave a review if you want me to continue ( I do have a micro story line planned out)**_

_**~Casjuice out**_


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